Good Morning, Mr Borg
by Parachutingkitten
Summary: What happens when his daughter leaves Borg Tower to work with the ninja? What happens when his son visits Borg Tower from Kryptarium Prison? What happens when you're trapped inside Borg Tower with no idea who or what is keeping you there?
1. PROLOGUE

I'd never seen the streets so quiet. The air so still. The sky so sleepy. It was as if the whole city had called the day off just because Borg Industries was closed.

I wasn't even supposed to be there.

But I was.

Never before had the back door sounded so squeaky. My heels clicked so loudly. The machines hummed so endlessly. The basement entry held only one person in its length.

"Good morning, Edmund!"

"Good morning, Miss Drew! Careful, the floor's a bit wet." I glanced over the room, finding the floor to have a bit of an extra shine. "What are you doing here? Building is closed this week for the renovation, remember?"

I walked over to the many rows of employee storage slots, all uncharacteristically empty. I placed my bag on my assigned ledge, at least one of the many squares now filled.

"I like coming in. gives me something to do with my day, and…" My thoughts trailed off as I pulled out my Borg Pad. "Well… I thought Mr. Borg might like the company."

"Well, that's awful nice of ya." The old man returned his focus to the floor once more, as I found my way over to the elevator.

"Have a nice morning, Edmund."

"You too, Miss Drew."

The elevator ride was one of the strangest parts of my day. Mr. Borg's offices are at the very top of the building, and though the elevators were fast, getting up a hundred stories takes no small bit of time. It was a pleasant moment I had to myself for a minute or two to think of whatever it is I would. Sometimes I would recall a list of tasks for the day, or plan where to go to lunch, but most of the time my head would just end up blank- staring at the columns of buttons, listening to the rhythmic beeps, and waiting for the doors to open.

And when they did, it was always the same.

"Good morning, Mr. Borg."

"Good morning, Drew."

"How are you doing this morning?"

"Oh, perfectly fine, thank you."

I smiled, walking towards him. He was sitting in front of the window, looking out at the city as he did most mornings. Today, though was gloomier than usual. Winter had been getting ever colder, and the sky ever hazier. Today, it was hard to spot anything much out the window, just an overcast sky without any clouds per se, but just a mushy haze that hung heavily in the air.

"Do you need my assistance with anything this morning?"

"You're not supposed to be here today, are you?" He turned his head to look at me.

"No, sir."

He smiled. "I'm glad you came."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, well. It just gets so quiet up here by myself." He turned to look out the window again. "Especially on days like today."

Mr. Borg seemed like a lonely man. He'd been this way ever since I started working here- ever since his daughter _stopped_ working here. I've tried to be a friend to him, but he'll only let me get so close.

"So, what's on your schedule for today?"

"Oh, nothing much. No meetings, no events, nowhere to be. I'll probably just be at my desk for most of the day."

"Then I'll probably be at mine then." I was the only one who worked on the same floor as him. I had a small desk in the corner of the room, with my laptop and a few knick knacks. Even if we didn't speak a word to one another, it was nice having someone else in the room.

I sat down and started my computer, fiddling with a pen and sticky pad I kept next to my mouse pad. I would write words that came to mind as I was bored, and by the time work was over, I had a sticky note that captured the essence of that day. This morning was apparently something like this:

_Empty, Foggy, Echos, Minutes, Climbing, Cold, Gray_

_Red?_

"Oh!" Borg interrupted my thoughts. "There is one thing you should know."

I glanced up. "What's that?"

"My son is coming to visit tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 1

He looked... different than I thought he would.

When the elevator doors opened, and I saw his face, it didn't quite register. He looked… broken. His figure was tall but scrawny, and his head hung on top of his shoulders as if it didn't belong there. His hair was a little bit messy, and oily, and even sort of fluffy if you looked at it right. One of his eyes was red, and the other was a sad, hollow gray- as if the color had been sucked out of it long ago. He wore no mask. His complexion was a mix of black and silver metal panels that seemed to split his skin with no regard for where the seams lay. Most notably though, his right forearm was completely missing, leaving a boney stub that suck out under his T-shirt. He boarded the elevator next to me, glanced over at the buttons, and the doors closed.

"...Are you-"

"I'm who you think I am," he nodded.

I glanced at him again, before returning my gaze to the doors in front of us.

"How was your travel here?"

He thought for a moment. "Not too long. Traffic is pretty good this early, so it was only 2 hours or so."

The conversation died as my mind scrambled to find something to fill the silence.

"It's getting pretty windy."

"Yeah, it doesn't exactly look like it'll be a pleasant week."

"We're supposed to get snow this weekend."

"...Huh."

The elevator beeps rung in our ears. As fast as they were, they only seemed to continue on endlessly.

"Are you the one who replaced Pixal?"

"Well, I take the calls and get the coffee." I smiled, and he sent a mildly amused grin back.

"How is it working here?"

I thought for a moment. "I like it. Keeps me busy, but it's not too crazy."

"I would stay on your toes though," He smirked. "This place has a bit of a history for being a dangerous work environment."

"Yeah," I smiled. "I guess you never know when everything will just randomly turn evil around here."

"Wouldn't that be a pain in the ass?" he rolled his eyes before we both burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, that was over the line," I shook my head.

"I don't have any lines anymore," he waved it off. "What was your name?"

"Drew Peterson." I extended a hand.

"Cryptor." He shook it as the doors opened.

I was surprised how much of a pleasant person he was considering who he used to be. He seemed like something of a walking contradiction. As he stepped out of the elevator, I was stuck just staring at him for a moment before bringing myself to follow him. The war general built by darkness who almost conquered all of Ninjago was now cracking jokes at his own expense, clad in a simple t-shirt and jeans going to visit his father. What happened?

"Good morning, Mr. Borg."

"Good morning, Drew." He glanced up from his work as a smile grew on his face. "Cryptor! I didn't know you'd be here this early!" He wheeled himself out from his desk to get closer.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Borg."

"How are you?! Have they treated you well? What happened to your arm?"

Cryptor glanced down at it. "Well… it had a gun built into it."

"Oh, that's right. I suppose they don't let you have those in prison, now do they?" Borg gently held what was left of his arm, examining it carefully.

"Not exactly."

"I might be able to make you a new one, but I have to admit, I got rid of your blueprints years ago. Burned them, actually. Mainly because they were designed by the literal forces of darkness, but also because they were surprisingly pretty sloppy."

"Okay," Cryptor rolled his eyes.

"It's nothing personal, it just didn't exactly stand up to brand integrity."

"You could use Zane's blueprints for the new arm," I suggested. "His were the basis for Cryptor's designs, so the attachment mechanism would probably be the same. Plus… it wouldn't have a gun."

"Good idea! I'll get started right away!" Mr. Borg's face lit up like it only does every once in a while.

"After the whole evil clone army thing, Borg is the only one who can access Zane's Blueprints in the building," I explained to Cryptor.

"Makes sense," He shrugged.

"No offense, but I'm kind of surprised to actually see you… out."

He sighed, wandering towards the seating area. "Well, I'm out on temporary parole on Mr. Borg's request. He wants to try and get me out on a sort of permanent monitoring program." He plopped down on the couch as I followed him, leaning on the back of the chair opposite him. "Basically, I would meet with officers once a week, agree to stay in certain areas, and they'd keep this thing on me."

He pulled up his pant leg to reveal a rather sophisticated ankle monitor sitting underneath.

"Sounds an awful lot like Borg is the one who wants you out and not… you."

A broken smile crept onto his face as he stared down at the floor. "Yeah… it kinda is."

"...any particular reason?" I pried.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I was only built a few weeks before I was arrested, and during that time I wasn't even really in control of myself. I've never really experienced… _freedom_ before. Don't know that I'd ever really get used to it. I'm not exactly... built for it."

I moved to sit in the chair, now directly across from him. "Well, how is it so far?"

"What?" he looked up.

I smiled, finally catching his line of sight. "Freedom?"

He glanced over at Borg, watching him shuffle some papers around on his desk for a moment. "It's… different." His eyes lingered for a moment more, before switching over to me. "What about you? How do you like it?"

"Um…" I chuckled a bit. "How do I like freedom? Well, it's pretty nice. You've just got to find the right people to hang around."

"Note taken," he smiled.

The conversation hit a lull as our eyes began to wander again.

"Didn't you say it wasn't supposed to snow until this weekend?"

I followed Cryptor's glance to the window where very visible and heavy snow was passing by on its way to the ground. "Yeah…" I stood up to get a better look. As I approached the wall of glass it was easy to see the snow that had accumulated on the ground just since we had entered. It looked like we were in the middle of some freak snowstorm.

"Mr. Borg?!" I called across the room. "What time was the renovation crew supposed to come in?"

"About noon," He answered. "Why?" He looked up from his computer to see the wall of snow falling outside as he quickly wheeled over to join me, and now Cryptor at the glass. "This looks bad."

"You might want to postpone," I advised.

"I don't think anyone is going anywhere in this storm," Cryptor commented, his eyes locked on the glass.

"It looks like it's only going to get worse." Borg commented scrolling through the weather forecast on his watch. "Drew, could you activate building shelter protocols? I don't want snow causing any damage."

"Right away Mr. Borg." I started walking towards the control closet as Cryptor followed me.

"Building shelter… protocols? What's that?"

"It's a barrier that covers all entrances and exits and the building up through about the seventh floor." I opened the closet, searching for right switch panel. "Used for protection against storms, or on occasion, the forces of evil." I sent him a quick smile before opening the panel and reaching for my keys.

"But, it'll pretty much trap us in though… right?"

I slid my keys in pausing for a moment at his remarks. "Yeah, I guess so. Just until it's safe to put them down though. We have total control over it." I turned the key as a mechanical rumbling started outside the building but was felt everywhere within it.

"Right…"

"Don't freak out," I smiled, closing the panel. "It's just some bad weather. Nothing to worry about."


	3. Chapter 2

"You want a cup?" I asked, pouring a mug for myself.

"Sure. I've never had it before, so-"

"You've never had hot chocolate before?!" I spun around to face him.

He shrugged. "I had to pay for my crimes somehow."

I chuckled, turning back around, and pouring another mug. "Yeah, well, I think you'll like it." I picked up the two mugs, handing one to Cryptor. "And if you don't, then that just proves you don't have a heart."

"Then… for science?" He raised his mug.

"For science." Our cups clinked as we each took a careful sip.

"Well… I'd say it's good." He commented, looking down at the liquid.

"Oh! I forgot the best part!" I placed my cup down and grabbed the bag of marshmallows sitting on the counter. I sprinkled a few in his mug as he looked down at them in curiosity.

"What are these for?"

"They float!" He looked up at me in confusion. "It's fun." I rolled my eyes, turning to pour a third mug for Mr. Borg.

"Definitely don't get it. Maybe I don't have a heart after all."

I dressed both mine and Borg's mugs with marshmallows and picked them up. "Well… maybe half a heart."

"That seems to be the droid standard."

We walked out of the break room in onto the main floor where Mr. Borg was working.

"How's it going?" I asked, walking towards him.

"Oh, just fine." He called back to me. "The arm should be off the line soon, and then we can try it out."

"We got you some hot chocolate." I reached past him and set it on his desk, finally grabbing his attention from the computer screen.

"Oh! Good thought. Especially with the snow outside."

I turned to look at Cryptor, setting his mug down on a table in order to pull out a chair. Seeing him maneuver the world with one arm was so very strange. It wasn't the disability that was odd to me- I worked with Mr. Borg every day. But it was the person who it was attached to. It was this strange dissociation of the character as a whole that had plagued me since I met him.

"How_ is_ the weather?" Borg broke my train of thought. "Any sign of improvement?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Cryptor responded, sitting down.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't last too long. I'd hate to have you both stuck here overnight."

Borg took a last sip of his cocoa before returning to his work. I walked over towards Cryptor, joining him at the table as we waited for his new arm to be completed.

"So, what's your deal?" He asked as I sat down.

"My deal?"

"Yeah. I feel like I've been talking about myself nonstop since I got here. What about you. What is it that makes Miss Drew Peterson tick?" He took a dramatic swig of his chocolate as I fiddled with the rim of mine.

"That's a good question," I sighed. "I wish I had an answer for you. There really isn't too much to me."

"There's got to be something though." He pressed.

"I'm a student at Ninjago Tech, majoring in engineering, landed an internship here my sophomore year, they've since hired me, and now I_ work_ here." I looked up at him. "That's the story."

"Where'd you grow up?"

"Ninjagan Suburbs."

"Siblings?"

"Only child."

"Hobbies?"

"I play a mad game of sudoku."

He leaned back in his chair. "You really weren't kidding, were you?"

"I bore myself sometimes," I smiled.

"Well, you're working at Borg industries, your life is bound to get more interesting now."

I sighed. "Yeah, today has _definitely_ been interesting."

"It's ready!" Mr. Borg called from across the room. "The arm is ready! Let's see how it works!"

Cryptor and I glanced at each other before getting up. This main room wasn't directly housing any of the machinery, but the completion conveyor belt ran through the room. We all made our way to the edge of the track, waiting for the new limb to make its way into the room. When it did arrive, it was quite plain. Simple titanium metal work, extremely simplistic design. Borg lifted it from the belt, carefully examining it before handing it to Cryptor.

"You'll attach it using this locking mechanism at the end," Borg explained. "If you position it right, your body should automatically be receptive to it."

Cryptor gingerly lifted the new forearm, and aligned it with his current upper arm, before carefully sliding them together. There was a small spark and short buzz, and his arm began moving as one cohesive piece. But his expression was still puzzled.

"How's it working?" Borg asked.

"I don't know," Cryptor thought. "It's not responding to my impulses. I don't know if there's a little bit of a delay, or if it's not receiving all of my signals, but something is definitely off."

Borg sighed, looking down at his work.

"Well, that's alright. First one off the line is never quite right anyways. It might be the transmitter chip." He returned to the computer, looking at his designs. "Oh, do you mind if we plug you into the system real quick? Just to make sure it's not a software compatibility issue?"

"Sure." Cryptor slipped off the failed forearm as Borg handed him a wire. He inserted the wire into a port hidden on his chest, just beneath the hem of his shirt.

As he did, the whole room grew brighter. Literally- the lights on the ceiling intensified, to the point of hearing an audible buzz. We all stopped, shielding our eyes to look up at the light.

"What the hell?"

The buzz grew louder, and I was worried the bulbs may begin breaking, before they all suddenly dimmed again, back to their original luminance.

"Well…" Borg began. "That was strange."

"You think… that's was the weather?" Cryptor asked.

"Let's go with that." I responded.

"If so, that certainly doesn't bode well for the rest of the day," Mr. Borg commented. "Well, it doesn't look like Cryptor was the problem." He returned to his computer screen. "Why don't you go back up to the top floor and run a system diagnostic. Just to be safe."

Cryptor hesitantly removed the wire from his chest, all of us half expecting the lights to freak out again. But nothing happened.

"Sounds good. I think everything should come up fine though," I assured him.

"You keep on saying stuff like that." Cryptor sighed.

"You want to see for yourself?" I shrugged, turning to leave as I could hear his footsteps following me.

"All of this just doesn't sit right with me," he shook his head, catching up with me as we exited.

"I wouldn't worry. After the nindroid invasion your dad has put countless security protocols in place-"

"Hold on," He stopped me. "My dad?"

"Well…" I stopped. Mr. Borg certainly referred to him as his son. Did Cryptor not reciprocate this? "I mean, you were built in his factory, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I was also based on the blueprints of Zane, altered by Pixal, under the orders of the Overlord. If we tried to assign family relations to all the people who made me, we'd be sitting here all day."

I pressed the elevator call button as we continued to argue. "I guess, but that seems a little harsh to cut him off like that."

He sighed. "Look, it's all much more complicated when you're a nindroid." He explained as the arrival tone beeped. "It's just better not to get attached."

"Well maybe you should," I countered as we stepped in. "I think getting attached is pretty fun."

He rolled his eyes as I selected the floor.

My finger sprung back at the surprising jolt of pain the button gave me.

"You good?" he asked.

I shook my hand out. "Yeah. Must have just been some static electricity or…" I glanced at my finger seeing a visible drop of blood oozing its way out. "…something."

Cryptor glanced over my shoulder, seeing what the button had done. "I don't think that was static." He crouched down in front of the panel, examining the button as I was left staring at my finger, my head going into a daze.

"There's a tiny hole in the center of the button. Looks like something was poked through it."

As I listened to him my vision started getting hazy. Blurred. Darker… and darker…

"Drew…? Drew are you okay?"

…and black.


	4. Chapter 3

I didn't remember waking up. But there I was, staring at the ceiling, my body lying awkwardly against the couch cushions as two familiar voices prattled on in the background. I shifted my weight, trying to sit up. The sofa was the kind that would swallow you as you moved, acting like quicksand as I struggled to get my bearings. Once I had sat up, I began rolling out my right shoulder, looking around the room. I was back in Mr. Borg's office- He and Cryptor were huddled around his computer while angrily debating something.

"Can't you tell what it's doing?"

"I've told you! The system can't see it! Security hasn't been breached; it says everything is clear!"

It was then that I remembered what had knocked me out in the first place. I lifted my hand, examining my finger. There was still a small puncture wound, but other than that, no trace of anything being wrong.

"What happened?" I asked, interrupting their discussion.

"Ah, sleeping beauty finally awakes from pricking her finger." Cryptor chuckled, turning to look at me.

"Drew! Are you alright?" Mr. Borg asked, frantically turning around, wheeling himself towards me. "The serum shouldn't have harmed you. You might feel a bit dizzy though."

"I'm fine," I assured him as he reached my side. "but what was that?"

"Just an emergency security measure. Why it activated, we're still not sure," He sighed.

"Whatever the reason, it's now somehow spread to the rest of the tower security." Cryptor chimed in, still at the computer at the far side of the room.

"What?!" I stood up, surprised to feel my feet touch the floor. My shoes. Where were my shoes?

"We're stuck in lockdown mode, communication is shot, and the lights have been on and off for the past hour or so," Cryptor explained.

I found my heels around the corner of the couch, quickly slipping them on as I looked at Mr. Borg. "I didn't even know we had an elevator security feature like that. Since when has it been installed?"

He smiled. "Oh, it was Pixal's idea!" Of course it was. "We had it installed just after she left. I guess I just forgot to mention it to you. I never expected to use it." I stood up, finding my balance again. "I really am sorry dear."

"It's alright," I dismissed it. Thanks a lot, Pixal. Your brilliant _security_ system prevented your replacement from _checking security_. "We just need to figure out why it happened." I started walking over towards Cryptor at the main computer. "You're sure there's no way to trace whatever's gotten into the system?"

"Borg was the only one able to access the elevator security specs, none the less able to activate them. Whatever has taken control of the tower is so deep into the system that the tower isn't even processing any of its changes." Cryptor scrolled through the security screens, all systems reading normal.

"It's like it's invisible," I marveled. "I've never seen anything like it."

Mr. Borg sighed, wheeling up to us. "I have."

"When?" Cryptor asked, both our eyes now glued to him.

Cyrus stared at the screen for a moment, as if looking for other possibilities. "The one thing I know of that behaved like this when it breached the tower's system… was the Overlord."

Cryptor and I glanced at each other.

"No… no, this can't be the Overlord," I insisted. "There's no way! We're done with that! Zane defeated him _years_ ago, even if there was a remnant of him in the system, we would have caught it by now… right?"

"I don't know," Cryptor refuted. "If it's behaving like the Overlord, that means it entered the system the same way the Overlord did. How did the Overlord enter the system again? We built the building on top of his remains!" He stressed. "We haven't _moved_ the building, we haven't rebuilt the foundations, we haven't even expanded! Unless there are some other dead guys we built on top of that we didn't know about the first time, there aren't really any other options, are there?"

"Drew has a point though," Cyrus shook his head. "After that final battle, Pixal and I searched countless times for any trace left of the Overlord. We found nothing."

"As great of a job I'm sure Pixal did," Cryptor rolled his eyes. "I don't see what else it could be. Unless of course you have some secret cemetery under the floorboards you're not telling me about."

"No, but we do have a basement," I reasoned.

"So?" Cryptor pressed.

"_So_, anything in the basement would technically be at the same level the Overlord was when construction began. If anything were destroyed and left down there, there's a chance something similar to the Overlord could have happened."

"Oh no…" Mr. Borg leaned back in his chair.

"What? What's in the basement?" Cryptor asked.

"...The furnace."

I could feel my pulse accelerate as a host of possibilities flooded my mind. "The furnace that we've used to destroy every piece of malfunctioning tech we've ever built?! That's not to mention a good portion of Overlord era tech as well." I hung my hands on my head and began pacing the room. "Oh, this is great. This is fantastic! I'm sure none of the failed inventions we've _burned alive_ would have any reason to seek revenge on us!"

"So, it could be literally _anything_?" Cryptor clarified.

"And failed computer code is _known_ for being rational and easy to deal with, right?" I rambled. "You know, at least if it were the Overlord, we would know how to _begin_ to deal with it!"

"Drew, it's okay." Mr. Borg tried to calm me. "We'll figure this out. I'm sure it's not as bad as we're making it out to be."

"Isn't it?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. "Because we're currently trapped, _alone_, in a hundred story building with one of the best security systems in the world, being controlled by _who knows what_ that has it in for us with no hope of rescue because, may I remind you, there's a raging freak snow storm going on outside!"

And as if on cue, just then, the lights cut out.

"Great," Cryptor sighed. "Now we've made it mad."

"Look, if it can cut power to the lights, it can cut power to anything else." Mr. Borg reasoned. "Let's use what we have while we still can. I'm going to try some more abstract back door protocols to try and see if we can get back any sort of control. If you two want to look for any notes Pixal left about the security system, digital or otherwise, that would be great."

"Pixal?" Cryptor asked. "What, she design the security system too?"

"No," Mr. Borg responded. "But she knew it inside and out. I would trust anything she might have mentioned in the project notes."

I took a few deep breaths, calming myself down. Yes, this was all crazy, but we didn't know anything _for sure_ yet, and there was still time to find answers. "Okay, we can do this," I sighed, making my way over to my desk.

"All hail Pixal, the all-knowing goddess of Borg Tower," Cryptor mumbled.

I chuckled a bit as he followed me over to my desk. "Stop it."

"I swear it's like the hundredth time he's mentioned her today."

"He's coping." I waved it off, typing in my password. "She was his right hand last time something like this happened. It only makes sense he'd try and lean on her again."

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Here, you check the digital security notes, I'll see if I can find the original paper copies." I gestured to my computer and opened my desk drawer, pulling a small key out from the back.

"Sounds good." He sat down, getting his bearings. I walked over to the wall of filing cabinets to my left looking up and down the tiny faded labels for the drawer I was looking for.

"_Ticking. Chilled. Sweet. Dispersed. Detached. Floating. Silver._ What is this?" Cryptor asked.

"It's my daily sticky note." I explained, opening my first suspected drawer.

"What exactly does that mean?" he pried.

"Oh just… words that come to me throughout the day. By the time I leave work I have a sort of mood-of-the-day word cloud." I pulled out the first file labeled simply 'plans'. This place really needs a better naming system.

"Huh…" Cryptor thought for a moment before I heard a pen click. "I think you're missing a few words on here."

"No, I _really_ don't think I am." I turned around to look at him this time, seeing where this was going.

"Oh, it's okay, I'll just add them for you here real quick." He waved it off playfully. "How about _handsome stranger_." I found myself suppressing laughs as he continued to write. "I think that one's extremely accurate, and, you know, important to at least mention. Um… _mistakenly drugged_. I think that was a pretty big part of your day so far. And then, how about_ Hijacked_. See, it works on two levels because of the whole tower thing, but also... what I'm doing right now," He smiled coyly.

"Now that you mention it, I do have a few words you could add." I moved forward, leaning on the side of the desk. " How about _Frustration. Annoyance. Total waste of time._ Maybe even _Not as clever as he thinks_."

"I don't know, that last one seems a bit wordy to me."

"No, I think that one's the most important one," I chuckled.

"Oh! Cryptor!" Mr. Borg called from the other side of the room, interrupting us. "Your arm! I'll finish the redesign on it and maybe we can get it built before anything else goes wrong!"

"You figure out what was wrong with it?" He asked.

"I'm pretty sure it was a problem with the connection rotation, so it shouldn't take long to fix." Mr. Borg assured him.

"Let's do it then," Cryptor agreed.

"He's really glad you're here you know," I told him, my voice a bit hushed. "He was so worried you wouldn't even come."

"Well, for what it's worth," he smiled. "Even if whatever's going on in this building ends up killing us… I think I'm still glad I showed up."


End file.
